Dreams on Fire
by Doitsu
Summary: One night's dream marks the beginning of Ed’s new and entirely unwanted obsession with a certain Flame Alchemist. There Mustang went again, making a nuisance out of himself and bothering Ed without even knowing he was doing it. Roy/Ed
1. Dreams of Beginning

A/N: Hello and welcome to my new multi-chapter FMA fic! The idea for this popped into my head a few days ago and I had a great deal of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy! :)

Additional notes: I have noticed that the FMA fandom is extremely well-adapted to adjusting to different or altered timelines, which I am very happy about. My fic won't be any different, so just come along, take things as they come, because I in no way claim this to be anything but an alternate timline. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the associated characters. They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. No copyright infringement intended!

**Dreams on Fire**

-Chapter 1-

Ed was stomping down the street leading away from Central's railway station, back slouched and swearwords on his lips.

_Report to me immediately upon your arrival._ Ed mockingly mimicked the bastard Colonel's words in his head. Yeah, great, as if this stupid report couldn't wait for tomorrow! It was not even worth writing and filing a report about—just some guy who had been causing trouble for a village in the South near the border to Creta.

Ed glared tiredly at the darkening sky, which was losing the last traces of orange and was slowly attaining the dark violet and blue hues of night. He kicked a small stone with his left leg, feeling some satisfaction at seeing it bounce multiple times ahead of him before rolling under a parked car.

His suitcase was heavy in his automail hand and he just felt like returning to Al's and his small apartment, assure Al he was fine and catch some sleep. And eat something. He was absolutely starving. Damn trains and the minimal amount of food they served.

Ed kept grumbling in his head until Central Command rose up before him, with its countless small windows illuminated and strangely welcoming. Not that he'd ever admit it felt a lot like coming home. He was too annoyed to acknowledge any small feelings of being glad to be back. He had caught the criminal, so why were the Military bothering him about it now? He was fucking tired.

He made sure to keep his annoyed demeanour about him as he entered the office, because Mustang totally deserved the grumbling and grousing that Ed was preparing to deliver. The office was already empty, so he marched through and kicked the door to Mustang's office open carelessly.

The Colonel was sitting behind his desk, a cup of coffee at his side. It no longer steamed; it had probably grown cold a long time ago. He didn't look particularly startled at Ed's sudden and considerably loud entrance, but that was probably because he had been expecting him.

Ed stomped up to stand in front of the desk, dropped his suitcase at his side and kept his jacket folded over his arm to demonstrate that he would be out of there soon.

"Fullmetal", Mustang acknowledged him, his dark eyes glittering in the faint firelight.

Ed gave an aggravated sigh. "I'm fucking tired, but you wanted a report immediately, so here it is. The man I dealt with was using basic alchemy which he had taught himself to melt the locks on doors to shops at night. He stole valuable things—jewellery, watches, the usual. We found him in his little hide-out, gave chase and caught him just as he thought he had outsmarted us. I turned him over to the military police and he's in their custody now."

Even when he had finished, Mustang kept watching him intently until finally, Ed shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny.

"And the village? There was no large structural damage done to the buildings?" His eyes momentarily dropped to Ed's hands and rose to meet his eyes again.

Ed felt righteous anger rising anew in him at Mustang's assumption. He could feel his eyes sparking when he glared at the bastard Colonel's calm façade. "No, contrary to your belief, I can come back from a mission without a bill for the Military to pay."

As if sensing Ed's edgy and aggressive demeanour, Mustang held up his hands placatingly. "I wasn't implying anything about your... way of handling missions, Fullmetal."

"Sounded a lot like it", Ed huffed, but let it go, too exhausted to get into a real fight.

There was a moment of charged silence, which was broken by Mustang's quiet voice.

"Are you all right?"

Ed blinked, momentarily taken aback at the slight edge of concern that shimmered through the Flame Alchemist's voice. Was that idiot worried about him again? He had just told him, it had been a harmless mission.

"I'm fine. One of the soldiers had his leg injured when Hathorne lost control of the little amount of alchemy he knew. It was nothing serious, though; no one else was injured."

Ed watched Mustang's eyes darken and deepen, as though he had been asking something else and had received an answer that did not answer what he had wanted to know.

"I meant something else, Ed."

Ed felt as though Mustang was looking right through him, the dark, slanted eyes boring into his. It wasn't about his physical welfare anymore, and he knew what Mustang was really asking. _Are you all right now that there's nothing left to strive for? Are you all right with having achieved your goal of getting Al's body back and now having nothing left to hunt after, nothing to research and motivate you to reach new heights?_

"I'm fine", he repeated, but his voice came out with an edge to it, one that seemed to scream 'lie' and made his lips twist downward in bitterness. Again, a stubborn statement. "I'm fine."

For a moment, it looked as though Mustang would say something else, but then he pressed his lips together and reached for his cold coffee, as if to silence himself.

When he set the cup down again, he was again his commanding officer. Subtle authority leaked through his voice and the distance was between them again. "I expect your written report by tomorrow evening."

Ed rolled his eyes but nodded.

Mustang's eyes softened minutely. "Get some sleep, Fullmetal. You look terrible."

Ed snorted and gestured at the now black night sky outside. "Yeah right, take your own advice."

He grabbed his suitcase, turned and waved over his shoulder as he exited the office. It was time to go home, take a hot shower, eat and then finally, finally sleep.

oO0Oo

Al had been happy to see him and he hadn't denied him a more detailed version of the mission he had been on, telling him about the hoard Hathorne had collected and hidden away in his house's basement.

Then, Al had told him about the newest things he had learned from his research into Earth alchemy and soon enough, Ed had been yawning and had gone for his shower, and then to bed.

The chase, capture and then his journey back to Central had left him exhausted and he could feel his eyes slipping closed as soon as his head settled on his soft pillow and his body relaxed into the sheets that smelled so familiar.

_He was in Mustang's office. Warm sunlight trickled through the window comfortingly._

_The air, however, smelled of darkness and he felt incredibly sensitive to his surroundings and to any sensations. The fire burning in the fire place sent warm shivers chasing over his flesh arm and suddenly, there was a presence in the room which he knew to be Mustang and no one else—how he knew, he wasn't sure, but that didn't matter. _

_He turned his head and sure enough, Roy was standing there. He was watching Ed with alert eyes and when he was sure he had his attention, trailed a finger over the stack of paperwork on his desk, making Ed's breath hitch. _

_"Where is your... report, Fullmetal?", his deep voice purred and Ed felt the hairs on his arm stand on end at the deep tones. _

_"My report?", he asked, his mouth dry and his voice cracking a tiny bit as he attempted to keep his wits about him. Why was Mustang's voice so different? And wasn't his written report due in the evening?_

_A dark smile flitted over Roy's lips and he slowly stepped around his table, a predator on the prowl. "Why, Ed, you have not written your report?"_

_Ed frowned at the way Mustang was coming closer, taking deliberate, measured steps toward Ed's personal space. "Of course not, you idiot, it's due tonight!" Ed could hear the desperate, slightly uncomfortable edge to his voice, but the situation was just too surreal and... disturbing._

_"But Ed... look outside... it is 'tonight' already." The soft voice was closer now and Roy was standing temptingly close to him. _

_Ed took a step back and glared at the dark square of the window, then back at Mustang. "It sure wasn't tonight a minute ago! Something's messed up here and you know it!"_

_"How... insubordinate of you, Fullmetal." Mustang was still looking at him with that predatory gleam in his eye and Ed attempted to ignore the weird feeling pooling in his stomach that was whispering to him, suggesting he step closer, lose himself in the fire contained in the man before him._

_"You didn't even give me time to write that fucking report!", Ed ground out, clenching his fists against those sensations that were slowly spreading through his body. _

_"We are in the army, Major; we cannot have insubordinate behaviour... especially toward your commanding officer. I have to punish you, Fullmetal." Mustang's voice sounded lascivious as he raised his gloved right hand into the air, thumb and middle finger poised to snap._

_Ed gaped at the hand and then at Mustang. "Are you crazy?!", he demanded, shooting out his automail hand to grasp the Colonel's hand and keep him from snapping those gloved fingers. "What's gotten into you? You're always all about being protective and suddenly you want to burn me to a crisp? For not turning in a fucking report?"_

_"Language."_

_"I'll show you language, bastard!" _

_Roy snapped his fingers. Ed froze._

_He had been expecting flames to leap at him and consume him, but instead, there seemed to be no effect whatsoever. _

_Ed started laughing outright, tension ebbing from him in waves of relief. "Knew you were faking it!", he called, but his laughter receded when he saw the deepening smirk on Mustang's face._

_"What did you do? Why are you smirking like that?", he demanded to know, unease spreading through him. _

_The odd feeling that had pooled in his stomach suddenly seemed to catch fire, spreading through his body at an alarming rate, igniting his nerve endings with its passing heat and dragging a low moan from him._

_The fire inside of him grew, he could feel it curling pleasurably beneath his skin, and it flared up under Roy's gleaming gaze. _

_Ed attempted to regain control of his voice at least and managed to croak out a "what did you do to me?" before letting out another strangled gasp. _

_Mustang simply regarded him as Ed tried to stop the shivers of obvious pleasure show. Damn that bastard. How had he done it? He had set him aflame on the inside, with metaphysical flames that roared in his head and made him itch for something; what it was, he didn't know._

_Roy smiled at him; white teeth reflected the fire light. "I awakened the sleeping fire. It calls for me now, it calls for sustenance."_

_The Colonel reached out a hand as if to demonstrate and before Ed could lean away, Mustang's slim fingers came in contact with his face._

_"What the—?"_

_But Ed couldn't finish his sentence as the fire on his inside flared up and gathered in his right cheek, where Mustang's hand was touching it. He couldn't stifle a gasp, his skin on fire, red white, blissful fire. Stars bloomed across his vision and he managed to drag in ragged breaths of air that were so much colder than the heat rushing through his body._

_"Mustang...!"_

Ed shot up in his bed, gasping for air as the thrum of sensation in his body slowly ebbed away. He squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily unable to move. When he felt he had his body under control, he lifted his trembling left hand to his cheek, where, until a moment ago, Mustang's hand had rested, burning him with its white-hot caress. The feeling lingered and the nerve endings were sensitive to his touch.

"What the hell?" The whisper was swallowed by his pillow as he pressed his face into its softness.

What was that? The trembling of his body had been too real, too strong to be caused by a simple dream. Even now, he would swear that somewhere in the deepest recesses of his self, a small fire was feeding off of the oxygen he inhaled, stealing his breath.

"Damn you Mustang", he growled, still burying his head in his pillow.

Why would he dream something weird like this? Sure, he had talked to Mustang in his office right before coming home and dropping off to sleep, but that did in no way explain the way Mustang had been acting and, he blushed at this point, it did not explain the rushing waves of heat that had consumed him from the inside.

He was half decided to blame it on the bastard Colonel himself, since _he_ hadn't acted at all strangely in the dream, _he_ had not set the Colonel on fire, _he_ had not been the one to do something disturbing like touching Mustang's face. No, he, Ed, was entirely not to blame for this dream.

Still, it haunted him as he went about his morning routine and still nagged at him when he sat down to breakfast with Al.

Al was shovelling food into his mouth while cheerfully telling him about all the wonderful things he would be able to help the farmers in Amestris with by employing his Earth alchemy that he was honing for just that purpose. Fighting and hurting others were not tasks cut out for him and Ed was honestly glad to see Alphonse work in an area where he as his older brother didn't need to worry for his wellbeing every hour of the day.

Ed did not notice the silence until Al cleared his throat and he guiltily focused his attention on Al again.

"I'm sorry, Al, I was listening, but..."

Al frowned in honest concern and searched his face. "You seem upset about something. Did anything happen?"

Ed considered lying and telling him it was nothing, but the thought of lying to him did not sit well with him. And maybe Al knew a thing or two about dreams...?

"I just... had a really strange dream tonight. There was... fire. Not a threatening kind of fire, though." Ed felt a blush start to rise to his face and thought of words to tell Al about the dream without mentioning the Colonel's involvement or the sensations he had made him feel.

"What was burning?" Al asked innocently, trying to help.

"Uh..." Ed stalled. "I was."

Al winced. "That's terrible!"

Seeing the pained expression on his far too empathic brother, Ed waved his hands frantically in an attempt to dispel the terrible image Al must be having in his mind of an agonized Ed burning.

"No, no, it was more like a... a fire on the inside, but it didn't hurt."

"Oh." Al stayed quiet, pondering his question while Ed stared out the window over the awakening city.

"Fire could mean passion or danger. But for us alchemists it's mostly about new beginnings, you know, the process of melting down materials with fire and re-forming them into new structures."

Ed frowned. "That means... change? A new beginning?"

The lingering taste of fire in his mouth curled around the words and Ed wondered in dismay when this odd sensation would finally leave him.

Al was still regarding him, muttering "Fire... fire..." deeply in thought, until suddenly, his eyes brightened.

"...unless you dreamed about Colonel Mustang?"

Ed choked on his coffee.

oO0Oo

It appeared that everything was sworn against him today, Ed thought as he walked down the corridors of Central on his way to the bastard Colonel's office.

Passing the cafeteria, he walked by a gaggle of giggling female soldiers without paying them any attention until he had nearly passed them when one of the soldiers suddenly squealed "I dreamed about the Flame Alchemist tonight!" to which the giggling group fell into hysteria and Ed missed a step and nearly stumbled over his own feet ungracefully.

His mood only worsened when their laughter followed him to the next level of Central Command. He set down his feet more forcefully than usual.

Entering the office, he was greeted by a chorus of "Morning boss!" and if he glanced at Mustang's closed door once, he didn't even consider going in there. He knew what he needed to do and there was no way he was facing that bastard after the night he had had.

He plopped down behind his small desk, irritably brushed some of the wayward blonde strands from his eyes and grabbed a few blank sheets of paper to start that report.

_Why, Ed, you have not written your report?_ danced through his head in Mustang's mocking tones and he let out a small growl as he bent over the papers.

"So angry so early in the morning, Fullmetal? Was the coffee machine too high for you to reach?"

Anger lanced through him and Ed whipped up his head in a death glare. "Who are you calling a midget so small he could drown in a cup of coffee?! Don't call me small!"

Mustang smirked and Ed fumed.

They were back to their old routine, and Ed's anger was genuine, but he couldn't help but think that the fire of anger in him could so easily be compared with the fire he had felt in his dream. They had the same, all-consuming quality and both, if he wanted or not, were focused on the Colonel in front of him.

Ed felt like making a scathing comment of his own, but nothing would come to mind, which only made him angrier. The worst thing was that that bastard actually seemed to be enjoying himself, watching him fume and react to his jabs with that superior look of his.

"Just leave me alone, I'm working!", he finally ground out, eliciting an amused upturning of lips from Mustang.

"Well, then don't let me keep you—I wouldn't want to see your enthusiasm for writing this report go to waste." Another smirk and Mustang nonchalantly left the office, leaving Hawkeye to sprint after him with her gun to demand where he thought he was going before finishing his paperwork.

When he was gone, Ed remained still, bent over the paper, pen poised but no words coming to his mind. He felt like the white sheet of paper in front of him—blank, empty.

He twirled the pen around the fingers of his left hand, watching the way the light was reflected in it.

It wasn't like he hated the Colonel. Mustang had come to his help one way or another so many times, had been the one to drag him out of his depression and give him new purpose when he had lost Al's body and his limbs after the failed human transmutation. Mustang had come and seen the fire in Ed's eyes when no one else had, and he had been the one to awaken it by giving him new hope.

No, he didn't hate the Colonel.

He just made him so angry! He knew Ed's buttons and how to push them, knew how to get a reaction from him when no one else knew what to do. Ed knew that it was usually Mustang who would snap him out of the blank state he went into sometimes, those moments when he remembered the Gate and the horrors beyond and within it.

Of course he was grateful. Not that he would ever show it. Gratitude simply didn't factor into their relationship. There was anger, yes, and the occasional glimpse of grudging respect, but that was the extent of it.

Now if only his stupid dreams would understand that, too.

**TBC**


	2. Morning After Dreams

A/N: Hey ho, I'm back! Thanks go to everyone who reviewed, I appreciate it a lot! :) Your thoughts are valuable! The story is going more slowly than I expected, but we should be well on our way by next chapter. I feel like chapters should be longer- that way I could fit everything in that I want to include!

Someone asked how old Ed is in this fic. It isn't readily obvious, but he is eighteen and, as you'll find out, his contract with the military is close to expiry.

Now, on to Chapter 2! Enjoy!

**Dreams on Fire**

-Chapter 2-

Colonel Roy Mustang was having a great day so far. He had slept for eight hours, had drunk a marvellously bitter coffee that had been waiting for him on his desk and in culmination of his truly wonderful morning, he had successfully enraged Fullmetal by calling him short.

As he turned the corner to the next corridor, he pondered whether it counted as a win, seeing as he had gone for Fullmetal's obvious weakness, while he usually prided himself in finding a different button to push in order to release the blonde alchemist's legendary temper.

He decided it was a win.

He allowed himself a small smile. Roy wasn't even sure why he enjoyed angering Fullmetal so much. It was... entertaining to watch him react. To see previously dull yellow eyes spark into golden life and witness that wave of passion surfacing, to stand there as it crashed and to enjoy the surf. It was mesmerizing. Or not. No, really, it wasn't all that mesmerizing. It was just fun, a bright spot in his usual, dreary routine.

"Sir, where do you think you're going?" The voice was steely and unyielding. He could practically hear the gun pointed at him.

He froze. "Lieutenant Hawkeye."

He slowly turned to face her, hands half in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I am merely picking up a book."

Riza's eyes remained hard. "What about your paperwork?"

He nearly choked, but managed to keep a straight face. "I finished it."

"All of it?", she demanded, with suspicion gleaming in her eyes like the corridor's light gleamed on the barrel of her gun.

He fought back a swallow and nodded. "Why don't you go check? It's all on my desk."

Her suspicion didn't lessen, but she lowered the gun and nodded grudgingly before turning to walk back to the office.

Roy let out a shaky breath. She would give him hell when he came back, because of course he had been too busy prodding at Fullmetal to make a dent in that humongous pile of paperwork stacked on his desk.

Roy finally arrived in the corridor of his destination. He hoped Sciezska had the book he was looking for or that she had at least read it. If she had, she would be able to copy it down for him in no time.

The door to Sciezska's office, or rather the small room where she worked, was not fully closed, so he carefully knocked against the door frame.

"Yes! Come in!" Her voice sounded muffled and he stepped in, searching the room with his gaze for a sign of her.

There were books. And books. And many, many more books. They were arranged in stacks, in piles, on shelves, or simply strewn throughout the available space. Roy felt a smile tugging at his lips. Fullmetal would like it here. He'd feel right at home.

Sciezska stepped out from behind a huge stack of books to his left that nearly reached the ceiling. Roy wondered how it remained upright and how Sciezska could navigate a room as cluttered as this. It certainly took talent.

"Hello Colonel!", she said, attempting a salute, but not really managing one. It didn't matter. She was no soldier and therefore wasn't to blame; apart from that he didn't take it as a personal affront when people did not salute him, unlike some of his colleagues of rank.

Her bright voice continued. "How can I help you?"

"Sciezska, have you read Degardieu's _Treatise on the Immutable State_?"

"Yes, sir", she smiled from behind her glasses, seemingly excited to be able to help. "Do you need it written? I could have it done in two days."

Perfect. That would leave him the weekend for reading. "That would be very helpful. Thank you, Sciezska."

He gave her a smile. She was a good person and a valuable ally to have. The way up was, after all, a stony and treacherous one.

oO0Oo

"It's all DONE?"

Roy ducked his head. He had known this would happen. Still, it always managed to scare him.

Hawkeye was standing, no, towering over him (he had no idea how she did that, because he was taller, damn it!), eyes seeming to glow with evil intent and Roy just felt like sinking into the floor and surrendering.

And the worst thing was that all of this was happening in the main office. Yes, Fullmetal was having the time of his life, watching his personal misery unfolding its ugly wings. Roy could see him grinning, enjoying the show. That infuriating little—

_BANG!_

The bullet embedded itself about 3 centimetres next to his left foot and he instinctively jumped aside to avoid the one that whizzed past his right ear. Of course Riza would never shoot him, but it was always so damn close!

He'd better start apologizing.

oO0Oo

Ed was feeling wonderfully vindictive. Earlier, it had been him who had been defeated by Mustang, but now, the tables were turned and it was the bastard Colonel who was bearing the brunt of Hawkeye's anger. Ed would simply sit back and enjoy the fireworks.

Mustang met his eyes briefly and Ed made sure to grin at him brightly. The bastard deserved it, honestly, if not for earlier, then for messing up his dreams.

Ed had already established that the dream had not been his fault at all and that Mustang was fully to blame, because well, most of that dream had been based in reality—Mustang did have a deep voice (that was apologizing profusely and sounded pathetic right now), and he did have very dark eyes, which made him entirely to blame, Ed found. Yes, his eyes were always so unfathomable; it was hard to tell what he was thinking, what moved him; those eyes made it hard to tell what he valued, what he needed.

Not that Ed cared or anything. Well, and what did it even matter if he wanted to know these things? He had simply begun wondering what it was that kept Mustang going, what motivated his actions, because, even if he would never admit it out loud, he was questioning his own motivation now that he had achieved all that he wanted. What was left to strive for?

The only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to get out of his contract and out of the military. For too long the military had controlled his life and now, it was time for something new. The only problem was that he didn't know what that "new" something was.

There was an empty space where his future was supposed to be. He sometimes envied Al, who had his Earth Alchemy, who didn't need to do the State's bidding and would be doing what he loved most—helping others. And he, the supposed prodigy, the genius Fullmetal Alchemist, had no path into the future to follow.

He supposed he could do more research... but into what? And what for? What was he trying to achieve? He had once sworn to his brother that he'd always walk forward, but how could he when the way before him was dark as the space between the stars and just as empty? He'd take a step and in the darkness would never know if he had placed his feet on the right path.

There were only weeks left on his contract, and what should have excited him, scared him. The idea of walking down the stone stairs of Central Command, free, caused a rushing sense of vertigo. When he thought about it, it felt as though someone had punched him in the gut and then torn the ground away from beneath his feet.

He told himself that he couldn't wait for that day.

It was true, and oh so wrong.

Right here, right now, he had a purpose, he was useful, and he had people to look out for him. And what would be left when he was released from this prison of a contract? What would be left of the Fullmetal Alchemist?

He lifted his head and started.

Mustang was standing where Hawkeye had left him and was watching him. _What?_ Ed wished he knew what the man was thinking, but Mustang was already meeting his eyes and walking over to Ed's desk purposefully.

It struck him how Mustang's hair shimmered in the light and fought to keep his eyes on his face.

Mustang stopped in front of his desk and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "What's the matter? I thought you enjoy me getting lectured by Riza. You'd usually never pass up a chance to rub it in my face, but you've kept quiet. Come on, Edward, you aren't fooling anyone. Least of all me."

Ed swore in his head and only let his helpless anger manifest in an aggravated glare that was supposed to mean 'leave me alone' and instead seemed to yell 'help me'. How did the man do it? How could he tell what he had been thinking about?

Those damn black eyes seemed to see straight through him.

Still, he needed to try. He didn't need anyone's help. "I'm fine."

He felt a rush of air across his face as Mustang leaned in. There was weight to his presence and his scent held an edge of fire.

A whisper, concealed from the others in the office, and yet spoken with strength that belied the quiet tone. "You said that yesterday, too. I don't believe you, Ed. I don't believe you at all."

He leaned away again, and Ed glared up at him.

"And what do you care?", he ground out, daggers in his voice.

Unreadable black eyes were watching him and fire flickered beneath his skin, making it tingle. He ignored it.

Silence grew between them as Mustang's eyes remained unfathomable and Ed's challenging front slowly fell apart. It was clear that Mustang really didn't care— he had no words to back up his pathetic attempt at pretending that he did. Ed wouldn't admit that he felt as though someone had reached into him, grabbed hold of something and _twisted_. He violently clamped down on the raw disappointment and steeled his gaze.

"I see how it is."

Mustang looked taken aback and seemed to be about to say something, but Ed didn't give him time to. He pointed at the papers on his table, keeping his voice short and flat.

"My report is right there." Ed nodded to him stiffly. "Good day, Colonel."

He rose and fled the office walking at a moderate pace, with as much dignity as he could muster, telling himself it was no escape at all. Not an escape at all.

oO0Oo

Roy was worried. And it wasn't a nice feeling.

Fullmetal had just walked out on him and he couldn't really blame him for it. It had been his fault for not replying, after all. He knew rationalising it in his head wouldn't change the situation, but he had been so... stunned by the question he had been asked that he had been momentarily left without words.

_What do you care?_

Yes, that was a good question. What did he care? He was just Fullmetal's commanding officer. It wasn't as though he was everyone's agony aunt, or that he got involved with the problems each of his subordinates had to deal with. It wasn't his nature. It wasn't his job.

Of course he was known to look out for his own, to protect those loyal to him, but he didn't usually go as far as trying to goad them to come out of their shell and finally _tell _him what was bothering them so that he could fix it.

But that was just it. He wanted to _fix_ Fullmetal.

He rubbed his temples and sighed. It was just so hard to ignore that look in Ed's eyes when he thought no one was watching him, that look of someone who had had their world tilted upside down and was told to keep walking.

Something was wrong, and Roy had a good idea of what it was.

But damn Ed for being so stubborn! He always reacted to Roy's questions with his "I'm fine", which was an obvious lie. And whenever he pointed it out, Ed's mood turned volatile and there was no way of getting answers from him then.

_What do you care?_

The question resonated in his mind, teasing little strands of thought and memory. Ed screaming in pain as a deep, bloody gash formed on his chest during a fight, Ed's dead eyes in Resembool all those years ago, Ed's agonized scream when he thought he lost Al and then, that bright, golden smile that filled an entire room when he returned with Al's body.

He wanted to protect Ed. He couldn't stand to see him in more pain after all the suffering he had gone through. Because even through all adversity, Ed had fought with fierce strength and boundless passion, never breaking, and never giving up.

Roy had sometimes stood in his office in silent amazement when Ed returned from an assignment that had dulled his eyes and weighed down his shoulders with the invisible burden of guilt and grief, and then had pushed through the layers of pain with pure stubbornness and power of will that was incomprehensible to Roy. These encounters with Ed's astonishing resilience had burned themselves into his memories, enveloping him in borrowed passion.

And before he knew it, he found himself motivating himself with these same memories.

Once, on a mission, Roy had been forced to kill the man they were chasing, because he was becoming a threat to civilians, and when he returned to Central, he had locked himself in his office in quiet self-hatred and despair. He hadn't ever wanted to use his alchemy for killing again after Ishbal, and yet, he had done it. The self-loathing had gnawed at him and had made him shiver in suppressed, helpless rage. And out of the dreary darkness, the bright memory of Ed had surfaced, with his golden eyes set and a glitter of future in them that promised that everything would be set right and that the pain would fade with time.

And because Ed protected Roy without knowing it, Roy in turn needed to protect Ed.

And most important of all, Roy needed to see Ed's dazzling smile again, that smile that brightened a whole room, cried triumph and yelled happiness and had made his heart jump.

Roy felt his fists unclenching, the unconscious tension draining from him.

Ed would smile again, and Roy would be the cause. And then he would make him smile again, and again after that, until he forgot it had ever been different.

oO0Oo

_The world was burning._

Where am I?

_Ed evaded the smouldering snowflakes and danced around the fires feeding off the snow on the ground. The cold world was bathed in flames and their ceaseless roar deafened his ears._

_He squinted into the distance, seeing the burning plains lick at the distant horizon._

_He sunk his hands into the pockets of his red coat, tugging it closer around him in attempt to keep both the heat and the cold out._

_Wherever he looked, the plains looked the same. Ducking his head, he walked forward. _

_Through the shadows of the dancing flames, he could see a dark figure, whose coat was blowing and flapping in the unnatural wind created by the fire. _

"_Hello!", he called out, but he couldn't hear his voice and the figure didn't turn. Damn this. What the hell was this world anyways? Burning snow? And who was that person standing with their back to him? _

"_Hey! Answer me!" Again, his voice was ripped away and swallowed by the roar of the flames before the sound could travel far enough._

_The figure remained motionless, and Ed fought his way forward, around blue-yellow columns of fire and red, ember-like stones gleaming in his path._

_If he hadn't been so annoyed, Ed thought, he'd probably find this world beautiful, in an odd, surreal sort of way._

_The figure suddenly turned toward him, as if it had finally sensed his presence. Ed stopped in his tracks._

_It was Mustang. A lick of flame curled around one of his legs playfully without seeming to burn him and when Roy lowered his hand to it, it twirled around his hand, like a tame kitten curving its head into its owner's loving hands. _

_He didn't look out of place at all; it was as if he was at home in this world of fire and plains. Suddenly, Roy's eyes widened and he started running toward Ed._

_In the same moment, white-hot heat surged from his right leg and Ed realised in horror that he had accidentally stepped into one of the small fires on the snow, or maybe it had formed all on its own around him._

_He frantically shook his leg in a futile attempt at shaking the flames. "Mustang!", he yelled roughly with panic tugging at his vocal cords. _

_His red coat was catching fire, it smoked at the seams, and Ed stomped his feet on the burning ground to put out the fire and batted against the smouldering fabric with his gloved hands. _

_And then, Roy was at his side in a flash, hands moving like a rider reining in his horse with effortless force. The flames dancing around Ed reluctantly flickered out of existence and the ground became a smoking expanse of blackened earth. _

_Ed panted, drawing in the cleaner air, his heart beating against his ribs at a frantic pace. For a moment, he just kept staring at the burnt ground around his feet, before lifting his head slowly to Roy's face._

_The Flame Alchemist was no longer surrounded by playful fire, and instead looked quite worried. _

"_Are you hurt?", he asked with a voice that was also roughened, like Ed's was._

_Ed shook his head slowly, mentally checking his leg and foot. _

_Roy reached out a hand, presumably to gently motion Ed to come along, but as soon as his fingers brushed Ed's shoulder, it was as if the fire had never been extinguished and had flared back to life on his inside._

_Ed yanked his shoulder away from that burning touch and Roy retracted his hand in hesitant confusion, looking at Ed in askance._

"—_the hell, Mustang!?"_

_Ed rubbed his shoulder where, beneath his skin, the fire and the burn of lightning pleasure slowly receded. _

"_Don't look at me like that, I did nothing." Roy was holding out his hands in front of him, palms up._

"_Yeah right, bastard! As if I'd believe you now!"_

_The beginnings of aggravation leaked into his voice. "Damn, Ed, I don't even know what I did!" _

_He sounded so honestly bewildered that Ed frowned, wondering if this was perhaps a different Mustang than the one in his dream the night before. _

"_...you don't remember?", Ed quietly asked._

"_Remember what?"_

"_My other... dream. You were there. You did the same thing as you did just now."_

_Roy frowned at his words. "I don't remember any dream. Just come with me for now." And again, he reached out his hand without thinking, placing it on the small of Ed's back._

"_Don't—!"_

_White fire flashed across Ed's vision as an uncontrolled flood of bliss roared through him and he managed one final gasp of breathless, damned pleasure before the fire-filled air and the burning plains were swallowed in the darkness of oblivion._

Ed came up for air, gasping, and disorientation took hold of him for a moment before he realised that he was lying on the couch in his and Al's apartment and that he was beginning to have... a problem.

"Arrgh, no way!", he groaned in embarrassed disbelief.

His tight leather trousers might hide it, but there was no fooling himself that a certain... part of him was starting to strain against the confines of the leather.

Ed searched the surrounding area with his eyes and then, with surreptitious glances around him, dashed into the bathroom before Al could see him.

He locked the door and sat at the edge of the bathtub, dismally staring down at the traitorous tent in his trousers.

"Damn you, Mustang."

He opened his belt buckle and the button of his trousers and paused when an uncontrolled hand brushed lightly against his erection. Delicious pleasure laced with fire chased through his blood.

He snatched his wayward hand away, glaring at the mirror and thought of a certain black-haired Flame Alchemist who would never let him live it down if he knew about Ed's current situation. Mustang would probably smirk and say some hugely inappropriate and smug comment about his own attractiveness and how it was such a _burden_ to be so _wanted._

Ed could feel his face growing red with embarrassment and anger. "There's absolutely no way I'll accept any pleasure from _you_!"

He stripped down resolutely with sharp movements, turned on the spray of the shower in the bathtub and stepped under the ice-cold water.

oO0Oo

Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will bring danger for Roy (the real one ;))—how will Ed react?

Tell me what you think about the chapter length I mentioned. Would 5,000-6,000 words be too long or would you enjoy longer chapters?

Thanks for reading!


	3. Dreams of Loyalty

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This chapter is for you! It's longer than before, not quite 5,000, but only slightly under. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the associated animes/manga/movies nor do I own any of the characters. They belong to Hiromu Arakawa.

**Dreams on Fire**

-Chapter 3-

Ed decided for the umpteenth time that he despised cold showers. He had always hated them, but it seemed as though he forgot exactly how horrible they were after a certain period of time had passed and the sharp memory of the discomfort and the utter, mind-numbing coldness of the water had been repressed. Otherwise he couldn't explain why he willingly put himself through it time and again.

Despite the guilt he was feeling for his body's unconscious reaction to his superior officer, Ed was of the opinion that this was a bit too much torture than he deserved.

As soon as he had stepped under the spray of water, each drop had hammered onto his back, head and chest with freezing, white hot coldness, like hundreds of needle-like pinpricks that seemed to actively drain away all warmth from his oversensitive body. The water flooded down his chest and back, rivulets of cold on hot skin, making him wince as the throbbing heat of his erection was suddenly cooled, doused like a fire that had been burning too hot and was suddenly extinguished.

A curse was trapped between his clenched teeth and he immediately turned the water to a more bearable temperature when his stubborn erection had finally given up its fight with the cold, slackening and softening under his frowning gaze.

This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Ed poured a handful of shampoo into his left hand, moving it into his hair and lathering it with both hands in tensely annoyed motions.

This entire situation was stupid and unnecessary. He was eighteen. He should have his overly hormonal days behind him. Or were they just beginning? Why did he have these dreams? He didn't understand.

Alchemy was easy, transmutation circles presented no problem, advanced theoretic textbooks were a breeze; but this situation was beyond his abilities of analysis. If he had felt anything more than the most basic and grudging respect for Mustang, he might have understood the odd urge to be near him, or he might have been able to rationalise the content of his fire-stricken dreams. But as it was, he felt annoyed tolerance toward the Colonel on the best of days, and boiling anger and rage on the worst.

Attraction or any softer feelings didn't factor in anywhere.

What was there to admire anyway? Sure, Ed had seen Mustang's admittedly well-toned chest after Lust had died at the Flame Alchemist's hands and his shirt and uniform had gaped open to reveal the newly cauterized wound slashing across his stomach and side. It hadn't been only the wound that had drawn his attention then; of course he had also taken in the Colonel's other physical aspects, but Ed didn't remember _appreciating_ them in that way or finding them attractive. He had looked, seen the muscles ripple and flex as the man moved with purposeful strides toward him, but there had been no tightening in his stomach in answer.

Still, it was clear that Mustang wasn't necessarily _bad _to look at. Ed could begin to understand why he was the most wanted man in the military, as far as most women were concerned. But his personality—! As soon as the man opened his mouth, Ed could practically feel the froth gathering at his mouth and his sleeping anger opening one fiery eye.

The familiar feeling of rising, twitchy anger made itself known when his thoughts turned to Mustang's tendency of making those dry, sarcastic comments to Ed that burned the air between them and had the rest of the office seeking shelter behind their paperwork.

It was as though Mustang _enjoyed_ getting a rise out of him, as though he _wanted_ to have Ed's eyes flash dangerously at him in warning response. And, Ed told himself, it was entirely because of this that he retaliated in kind and felt flaring triumph when a twitch in those black eyes and an edge in that otherwise smooth voice was the result of his efforts. It wasn't that Ed liked angering the Colonel—it was simple really: if that bastard enjoyed annoying him, then he'd damn well make sure he derived the same enjoyment when he annoyed him right back.

Equivalent exchange could be such a wonderful thing.

The last traces of shampoo were running down his body and Ed tipped back his head one last time, letting the spray rain on his face as if to wash his thoughts away.

He spent the rest of day flipping through alchemical books to kill time, barely noticing Al's worried glances as he absorbed himself in the past, in research that had neither purpose nor an end.

Sometimes, when he looked up from his reading, he could see Al leaning against the doorframe with a question on his lips, but each time, Al seemed to think better of it and just gave him a small, tight smile that didn't conceal his concern before moving away again. Ed was grateful for the space his brother gave him, because as much as it appeared that he was reading for the sake of reading, he was more focused on forgetting the present than actually learning from the books in front of him.

Even as shadows crept across the pages of the book he was reading and the sun withdrew its last rays from the wooden floorboards of their study, Ed remained seated and silently absorbed.

There was no way he was sleeping tonight, not if dreams would consume him again, leaving him with more confused feelings and dilemmas he was not eager to face.

And even though sleep fogged his mind and leaden tiredness tugged at his eyelids, Ed did not allow himself to close his eyes, not even for longer than a fraction of a second, because dreams were lurking in the night and the promise of fiery pleasure was terrifying him with its inexorable, inexplicable draw.

When finally morning's first light filtered through the windows, pale and new, Ed rubbed his tired eyes and rubbed his sore shoulders with his flesh hand, exhausted and very very grumpy.

The long hours of the night would have been the perfect time to sort through his thoughts and analyse yesterday, but the only thing he kept remembering were the dreams and, in sharp and painful contrast, Mustang's indifferent eyes watching him in the office.

Ed groaned painfully when he got up from the couch he had spent his sleepless night on, grousing to himself and mumbling choice swearwords as he dragged himself into the small kitchen and toward his ultimate goal of a hot, steaming cup of strong coffee.

The bitter taste, laced with sugary softness took the edge off of his short temper and by the time Al finally showed up for breakfast, Ed felt almost passable. Almost.

Leaving the three-storey house where their apartment was located, he made a point of glaring at everything and everyone, simply because he could and because he was fucking tired and everyone else wasn't.

When he walked to Central Command, his feet began to drag and his steps slowed as from his tired mind arose the memory of the look of plain indifference on Mustang's face yesterday right after Ed asked him why the hell he would care if Ed was _not_ okay.

A pebble on the pavement before him briefly caught his attention and he kicked it ahead of him for a stretch of the walk, taking pleasure from the way it tumbled and bounced away from him. Let Mustang be indifferent. He had never really showed that he cared, anyway. Well, maybe he had cared a bit.

And perhaps, Ed admitted to himself, he was feeling just a tiny bit disappointed, because he had been unconsciously convinced that Mustang was protective of him and even though the mere thought of him actually needing that bastard's protection set his teeth on edge, Ed couldn't deny that he had always relied on that knowledge. Maybe he had also been comforted by it, to some extent. Not much, of course, because he didn't need to be comforted by anyone, least of all the Colonel.

It wasn't Mustang's business anyways. It was no one's business but his own.

Stupid Colonel and his stupid helping people thing. The bastard was too damn loyal and perceptive and honourable and so fucking annoying!

Even though he was tired, Ed stomped his feet forcefully, already planning on only dropping by the office for a few minutes at most, just long enough to ask the bastard Colonel if he was sending him off on a mission or not.

He was half hoping that he would have a mission waiting for him, just to leave Central and lose himself in a chase or a fight again, to find momentary triumph after the accomplishment of whatever mission he would be sent off to fulfil and to feel that elusive, fleeting sentiment of being needed.

Nowadays, Ed felt largely useless—the military was sending him on missions that were tedious and inconsequential at best and now Winry and Al had been growing closer in their common interest of helping others and their goal of experiencing life to the fullest, while he felt as though he stood behind a painfully transparent glass pane separating him from their joyful outlook on life and their boundless faith in the good of the world. All he could do was press his hands and face against the cold glass in a futile attempt at emulating their passion for life, but the glass was impenetrable and unbreakable.

Ed would forever be different. Damaged, alone and, so very useless.

He climbed the stairs to Central Command and with his eyes sought Mustang's office among the multitude of illuminated windows. Ed thought he might have found it, but really, it could have been another window entirely.

The windows disappeared from his view as he stepped through the large double doors into the buzzing headquarters of the military. Ed turned immediately, taking the first corridor that branched off to his right. It wasn't the fastest route to the office, but Ed didn't feel like seeing anyone just yet.

The buzz of conversation, greetings and sharp orders drifted through the corridor he was in, and if his mind hadn't been so blank, he would never have picked up on the words that were quietly and urgently exchanged in a small corridor branching off the main corridor. It was one word in particular that grabbed his attention.

_Mustang._

Ed's hearing, which had been lazily sifting through the scraps of conversation floating around, pricked up and sharpened its focus on the hushed voice that had mentioned the Colonel. The surrounding voices were blended out, and Ed's steps slowed imperceptibly.

One of the voices sounded strained and the tension in the soldier's words was easily readable. "We can't go on speaking about Mustang like this"—the soldier whispered the Colonel's name—"anyone could overhear and you never know who's friend and who's foe."

A quiet sound of assent was heard, then silence. For a second, Ed thought they would step out from the corridor, but they only remained quiet for a moment before the first man who had spoken addressed the one who was with him again, lowering his voice even more.

"We need a code name."

Ed strained to hear as he pretended to lean against the wall of the main corridor nonchalantly, and frowned. He quickly schooled his expression into one of bored indifference as he drew a suspicious look from one of the passersby.

"What about 'Horse'?", the second voice suggested meekly.

"Idiot! That's too obvious!", hissed the one who seemed to be of higher rank. "We'll refer to him as... Cain. A sinner, a murderer—so fitting, wouldn't you agree?"

Ed bared his teeth and gritted them to keep himself from barging into the corridor and transmuting that asshole into next week. He couldn't blow his cover.

The conversation between the two soldiers seemed to be over and Ed slid smoothly into another smaller and darker corridor to observe them as they exited into the bright light of the main corridor.

One of them was tall and broad-shouldered, with hair as dark as Mustang's and the other was brown-haired and overweight, as though he spent most of his time behind a desk and never bothered with exercise.

Ed stifled a gasp when he saw the golden stars on the fat man's shoulders, proclaiming his rank. He was a Lieutenant Colonel, just one rank below Mustang. With his eyes, he searched the man's pockets for the silver glint of the alchemist watch's chain, but it seemed as though the man was no alchemist.

Ed glared after them as they left and then slipped back into the main corridor again, moving in the opposite direction, upstairs and to the office.

His mind kept replaying the Lt. Colonel's words and he remembered the ugly tone, the way he had spit Mustang's name. And what did he need a code name for? Suspicion simmered in the pit of his stomach and he cursed his luck that he hadn't heard anything definite or incriminating. That way, he could at least have had them followed by Investigations, but as it was, there was nothing to prove and nothing to tell. It might simply have been a soldier with a grudge and no plans on acting on it. There were plenty of those in the military—those who envied Mustang his position and his success and harboured less than charitable feelings toward the man.

Ed kept glaring as he climbed the stairs to the second and third floor, but now it wasn't his sleepy crankiness that made him mad at the world and at himself, but the traces of worry about Mustang that snuck through his mind.

The bastard could handle himself. He had many enemies in the military and knew it. If Ed told Mustang about what he had heard, it would probably be nothing other than an insignificant nuisance to him.

He opened the door to the office less forcefully than usual, deep in thought as he was. Hawkeye noticed him first and nodded a curt greeting, softened by a smile, and the other occupants of the room chorused their "Mornin' Boss!" as usual.

Ed waved back vaguely, feeling the tiredness rising to reclaim him. The enticing smell of freshly-brewed coffee wafted through the air and he made a mental note to grab one before heading to the library.

His odd mood made him actually knock on Mustang's door.

"Come in."

Ed opened the door and stepped in without banging the door shut and Mustang lifted an eyebrow at him that had him bristling even though no word had been said yet. Flames licked at his insides, sending warm shivers down his spine, but he was stubborn. He hadn't slept just to avoid the dreams, so he would not let them follow him into his daily life either.

"What, no kicking down my door? What has got you so meek all of a sudden, Fullmetal?" Mustang sounded amused and mocking, and Ed suppressed a growl. As always, the faintly concerned undertones in the Colonel's voice were lost on him.

"Just tell me if you have a mission for me or not. I don't want to be here for longer than I have to be."

"And grumpy, too. My, my, Fullmetal, that's no way of speaking to your commanding officer." Mustang had shards of humour glinting in his dark eyes, but Ed wasn't in the mood for witty banter or the Colonel's teasing. But really, was he ever?

Fire pooled in his stomach as he glowered at Mustang's laughing eyes.

_Damn it! Enough!_

"I spent the whole damn night reading, I had no shut-eye whatsoever, and I've had only one coffee this morning, just give me a fucking break! ...sir." He glared into those dark eyes that flickered with amusement which, along with the warm pleasure curling around him only served to enrage him further.

Mustang held his gaze for a second longer, before sorting through one of the many piles of papers on his desk. With each paper that he took from the pile, he pronounced his verdict with a glance up at Ed, who could feel himself fuming.

"Too difficult."

"Too complicated."

"Too much finesse needed..."

By the time Mustang was halfway through the pile of missions, Ed let out a frustrated growl, throwing up his hands. Sarcasm bit at his words, cloaking them in spikes.

"Great. So you don't need me. Could have just told me!" Ed was wondering why he had ever worried about this arsehole.

Ed missed the fleeting look of self-reproach that passed over Mustang's features, but he did notice that Mustang seemed to sober up, and that his voice sounded apologetic. "Sorry, that was uncalled for." The Colonel's dark gaze pierced him and left Ed momentarily breathless for reasons he didn't know. "I don't have any missions for you at the moment, but check in tomorrow, I might have something by then. Dismissed."

"Colonel", Ed said curtly, nodding to him in good bye, before turning to leave.

A responding nod. "Major."

Ed's thoughts swirled in confusing patterns as he felt Mustang's eyes on his back, worry mixing with latent annoyance and bleeding into shades of warmth with perplexing edges of longing that he couldn't place.

"The Colonel was giving you a hard time again?", Fuery asked him when he stepped out of Mustang's office, blowing out a breath of air as he released his pent up tension.

"He's his usual, bastard self. Simply can't keep his stupid comments to himself."

Havoc grinned at him from behind his desk, his cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. "You know he doesn't mean it, we're all like a big family."

Ed smiled faintly. As odd as it seemed, the statement rang true, not that he would ever admit it did.

"Right, and the Colonel is our dad."

Breda grinned. "Who's our mum?"

"Hawkeye?", Falman supplied.

The lieutenant threw them a warning look that had them cowering.

Havoc let out a bark of laughter. "Nah, judging by how much he loves to fight with the Colonel, I'd say the boss is mum!"

"I'm no one's mum!", Ed spluttered, an indignant blush rising to his cheeks and his challenging glare was directed at all of them. "And are you calling me short?!"

oO0Oo

The library was quiet, as it always was. It was exactly what he needed—a quiet place to sort through his tumultuous thoughts and find some peace.

Libraries had always been comforting to him, ageless knowledge whispering from its tomes and the dark, musty air moving slowly through the rows and rows of shelves. Ed felt the most relaxed when surrounded by books, by alchemical texts and scientific theories. In a library, one could escape reality, dive into the comforting and exciting world of alchemy and lose one's worries and troubles among the millions of words. Libraries had also been the only places where he had allowed himself the guilty pleasure of feeling at home back when he had preached to Al and himself that they couldn't have a home.

For lack of a better topic to research, Ed wandered into the aisle that held books on Fire Alchemy, wondering if anything in there could be related to his dreams. Even if there wasn't anything to be found, at least he'd find out how Mustang maintained and controlled the flames he ignited with his gloves. Because, if he were honest, Ed found their flashiness entrancing and wished he could incorporate fire somewhere into his own alchemy.

He grabbed a few promising looking tomes and chose a secluded corner, knowing that people only rarely passed by. Even if they did, they wouldn't see him immediately, as he was ensconced between two shelves in the Mathematical Theories of Alchemy section, which was highly unpopular for obvious reasons.

Soon, he was deeply engrossed in reading _An Introduction to Fyre Alchemy_, a book that looked very old but had a comprehensive style that made the theory easy to understand.

A spark needed to be created without alchemy and then, the interlocking arrays of oxygen and hydrogen control had to be drawn and activated to isolate the two from the water vapour in the air. The book stressed that even if oxygen was limited, carbon dioxide should not be used to gain more of it, since it would leave the free carbon to form either toxic gas or thick, black smoke.

Ed was fascinated. So this was what Mustang did when he snapped his fingers. He took control of two elements in the air and manipulated their presence near the flame to feed it. Ed had flipped to the back of the book, and had seen the advanced steps to creating stronger and hotter flames with the help of methane, a hydrocarbon that a Fire Alchemist could synthesise with carbon dioxide and large quantities of hydrogen. It looked incredibly complicated and Ed felt a surge of respect for Mustang. Whenever he ignited a flame and had it surge forward to engulf his opponents, he made it look so easy. It was as though fire alchemy came to him naturally and took no effort whatsoever.

The very idea of manipulating elements other than the metals or trace amounts of non-metals he usually transmuted was extremely tempting and Ed couldn't help but flip to the front, fix one of the basic arrays in his mind and clap. He knew there would be no fire, but he was just experimenting with the feel of controlling two elements as volatile as hydrogen and oxygen.

He immediately noticed the difference. Hydrogen was the worst, and had the controlling triangle of the array been any less effective, he would have lost the reins on the element right then. It felt like a wild animal tearing at its constraints, itching to escape and diffuse back into the air around him. Oxygen was a little better. It felt calmer and more settled, probably because it existed in its diatomic state in the air and he was not forcing it to do anything other than stay still and in one place. Then, there was the protective layer between the two gases that kept them from reacting together until the spark destroyed it and created the flame.

With a controlled cutting off of the flow of power, he let the elements go again, breathing out tightly.

He let out a small "wow" and a breathless laugh. Fire Alchemy felt exhilarating, even without the actual flame.

Glancing down, he wondered if he could transmute matches from the table and phosphorus from the trace amounts contained in the stone floor to try to light the flame, but as he was ready to clap and perform the transmutation, his concentration was broken by footfalls in an adjoining aisle and he decided to play innocent and pretend he had not just been about to endanger the library by playing the pyromaniac.

The footsteps stopped in the aisle, though, and a familiar voice startled his heart into an adrenaline gallop. It was the Lieutenant Colonel from earlier.

"Are you sure that this is safe?", the voice of the tall man who had been with fatso whined. He was probably looking around, paranoid.

"Of course I'm sure. This is the agricultural alchemy section; it's nearly as boring as mathematical alchemy."

"Why don't we move to mathematical alchemy, then?"

Ed held in his breath, eyes darting around for any escape routes. He needed to hear what they would say. There was no escape. Instead, he froze where he was, expecting them to walk into his aisle and notice his presence at any moment. Ed's heart was thumping in his chest, dread quickening its beats.

Then, the fat soldier replied, sounding annoyed. "No one's around. This'll do just fine."

"Okay." The other soldier didn't_ sound_ okay.

"Did you get the information?"

Ed presumed that the addressee had nodded, because no words were forthcoming.  
Then, fatso, as Ed had dubbed him in his mind, let out a short, dark laugh. "Perfect, Roland. You've been very helpful in providing me with exactly what I need to bring hell down on Cain."

The man called Roland sounded eager. "When will we put everything in motion?"

Another silent, but self-satisfied laugh.

"Soon. Mustang is going down." The voice was quiet, but the passionate certainty in its tone chilled Ed to the bone.

"I thought you said we'd call him Cain?"

"Shut up."

"Yes sir, sorry sir!"

An aggravated sigh.

There were footsteps again and Ed froze again, but now that their information exchange had been accomplished, they walked back the way they had come.

His hands felt uncomfortable and Ed glanced down to see they were clenched tightly. Slowly, he unclenched them, staring at the blood slowly starting to seep back into his white knuckles.

Those bastards were out to get Mustang.

Mustang, who had always been there when it mattered, who had always cared and probably still did, who riled him up because he knew just as well as Ed that it was simply a strange ritual they followed out of fondness; Colonel Roy Mustang, who had dreams greater than himself, who opposed the corruption of the military, who wanted to become Führer, and change Amestris for the better.

Ed wanted to burn or destroy something, just to have an outlet for the rage that was rising in him. No one messed with Mustang. They could mess with Ed, hell, they could mess with the fucking Führer for all he cared, but they couldn't mess with the Colonel.

Well, if they insisted on targeting Mustang, they insisted on playing with fire. And it wouldn't be Mustang's flames that would burn them, no, it would be Ed's.

Ed felt a dangerous smile tug at his lips, and he brought his hands together in a clap, feeling the rush of power and control weave around his fingers as hydrogen and oxygen swirled in his grasp.

They might think they were safe in their anonymity.

Except that they had made one fatal mistake.

They'd pissed off the Fullmetal Alchemist.

oO0Oo

I'm always happy to receive reviews! Tell me what you think! :)


	4. Interrupted Dreams

Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, favourited and story-alerted! I'm glad you did and appreciate it very much! I haven't gotten aorund to replying to all of your wonderful reviews yet, but I will, today. Just wanted to get this out there. I have terrible real life stress coming up in the next few weeks, featuring mock exams, Spanish orals and presentations, so after next chapter updates will be a little slow for a few weeks. Afterwards I should be fine. :) Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. I don't own FMA.

**Dreams on Fire**

-Chapter 4-

The men had left, but Ed stayed where he was, sitting stiffly, with his back straighter than that of the chair he was perched on. The revelation of a plot against Mustang had left him to stumble into an uncomfortable realisation. Mustang was in danger. The thought was even more chilling since Ed had always, and perhaps naïvely, relied on the comforting knowledge that the Colonel was untouchable, unstoppable and invincible.

It seemed so stupid to him now. How could he ever have believed that Mustang was anything but mortal? Of course he was. He had simply never thought it possible; or maybe he had always refused to believe it, because Mustang was a constant in his life, always there to give him a mission, always there when he got back from one to snark at him and demand a report, always annoyingly alive and self-satisfied, but always there, always there.

It was hard to wrap his mind around something as incomprehensible and dreadful as an injured or dead Mustang. Ed wasn't stupid. He had seen death, and knew it well. He had dealt it with trembling but decisive hands, he had screamed himself hoarse cursing it, and had passed through it and known it inside the Gate. Death was his companion. Ed was aware of the fragility of Al's life; he even accepted that his mother, who had used to be the one who he could never picture dying, had succumbed to death. And yet, it was as though the usual rules didn't apply to Mustang in his mind.

The Flame Alchemist was a fortress against things as mundane as death, and Ed could picture Mustang meeting death and instead of submitting, laughing in its face and walking away unscathed.

A brief, wan smile flitted across his lips and the marginal comfort it gave brought in its wake a rush of tiredness.

His back finally slumped from its rigid position and he leaned forward and down, closer to the suddenly soft-seeming and inviting-looking textbooks.

And when his head rested on his crossed arms and on the books, they felt like the most comfortable thing he had ever lain on. Damn, he was tired.

Like a patient predator, his tiredness had stalked him throughout the day and finally, it had sunk its teeth into his body, dragging him off into the dark cave of sleep, and Ed knew it would not let go until he got some much-needed rest. Promising himself that he'd only close his eyes for a few moments at most, he let his eyelids droop and shut. Only a few minutes and he'd get to work on finding out what exactly those bastards were up to... only a few minutes...

_Ed was in the library, standing between the high shelves of the Earth Alchemy section. _

_He wondered idly how he had ended up there, because he distinctly remembered that he had been seated at a table in the Mathematical Alchemy section. _

_Ah well, he sometimes spaced out when he was deep in thought. He had probably moved here without really paying attention to where he was going. Figured._

_A thought tickled at his mind, attempting to remind him that something important had happened, something he should be dealing with and investigating, but as much as he thought about it, he couldn't put his finger on what he should be doing. _

_Ed's nose suddenly alerted him to the faint, curling scent of smoke in the air. _

_Ed frowned. Was someone smoking in the library? If so, that was incredibly stupid. The librarians would be upon them in a flash and what they'd do to the offender wouldn't be pretty. Librarians were a secretly vicious breed. They were wonderfully agreeable until someone messed with their beloved books. _

_Ed followed the faint scent and silent dread pooled in his stomach as smoke started curling around the shelves and drifting in thick swathes through the aisles. _

_Shit. Something was burning. _

_Ed started running._

_As his pounding feet took him closer to the fire, he looked around frantically, hoping to see someone, anyone, who was trying to extinguish the fire or rushing off to alert someone. _

"_Hello?", he called, hearing his own voice weakly drifting away from him and getting lost between the empty shelves._

_No answer came._

"_Is anybody here? There's a fire!"_

_The silence grew, becoming a living, oppressive thing that seemed to be perched under the high roof and was slowly drifting down, becoming a clawed and toothed blanket pressing down on him with its heavy presence. _

_The library was eerily empty and each aisle he glanced into as he passed in his hurry was filled with nothing more than billowing black smoke._

_Now, the roar of the high flames was becoming louder and louder, at first whispering through his being and, as he moved closer, roaring in his ears with its rushing sound of displaced air and hungry flames._

_Where the hell were those librarians when you needed them? Books were burning, for goodness' sake! They should be all over the place, dousing the flames and crying over the books lost as if they were loved ones. _

_Something was wrong._

_Finally, the fire came into view. Ed could discern the Mathematical Alchemy section in the bright glare of the flames and felt a twinge of fear lance through him. _

_Why did it matter that it was this particular section that burned? His mind screamed the answer at him, but the roar of the fire was too loud and he was deaf to its words. _

_A thought came to him out of nowhere, and Ed carefully brought his hands together, a tentative array flowing though his mind, which focused his will on the fire in front of him, allowing him to feel the elements rage and rip into each other in their vicious dance. _

_He swallowed. How was he supposed to control something like that? It felt like a wild animal that had been enraged and pushed into a mindless, destructive rage that nothing could calm._

_And how did he even know how to feel the elements burning in the flames? He knew nothing of Fire Alchemy. His mind again tried to answer, but nothing came forth._

_Again, he pushed his awareness toward the fire and with it, sent power to seep into the chaos. He couldn't decide which element to isolate—oxygen because there was less of it in the fire, or hydrogen, for being the more volatile of the two? _

_The decision was rendered unnecessary. A horrible moment of vertigo, and then the power he had pushed into the flames was sent back, whipping across his body in wild, slashing motions, no longer under his control. Ed winced and closed his eyes against the ice-blue rebound. _

_And through the whirlwind of snarling alchemy he could sense tendrils of foreign power controlling the flames, feeding and defending them. It was the same power that had torn Ed's away and had sent it right back in a dangerous wave of unbridled alchemy._

_Stretching a desperate hand out and reaching into the white-blue tempest of alchemy around him, Ed forced a storage array into being, feeding it with the loose energy around until it had calmed around him and obeyed his will._

"_This is not your fire to control." The icy voice clashed with the surrounding heat, never yielding, never melting. _

_Ed whirled around, and where before had only been empty aisles and foreboding shelves, the Flame Alchemist stood. _

_Ed felt a surge of triumph and let a grin break out across his face. He'd never been happier to see the bastard before. They were safe._

"_Well, if it's not mine to control, then you go and extinguish it. What took you so long?"_

_But Mustang didn't move, only regarding him with dark eyes that reflected the firelight eerily. _

_Ed was starting to feel twitchy. The library was burning, and invaluable books with it. Urgency lanced through him. "Get going! What are you waiting for?!"_

_Finally, Mustang lifted his gloved hand and snapped. _

_It was only a split second that Ed felt relieved, because instead of dying, the flames erupted from behind him, rushing outward unnaturally, reaching out to him with hungry heat. _

"_What the fuck, Mustang??!", he managed to gasp as he jumped aside and rolled to evade one of the farther-reaching tongues of flame._

_The edge of a small fire that had sneaked up on him unnoticed curled around his foot and in its heat he could feel the same power as before. He yanked his foot away, disturbed by the odd feeling it had caused to chase through his veins._

"_What's wrong with you?!", Ed yelled at the motionless figure, rage tearing at his rational thoughts. "Why the fuck are you the one controlling these flames? You should put them out, not send them after me!"_

_Mustang snapped again._

_For the first time in his life, that sound sent dread through Ed. _

_He didn't stop to think and only let his hands do the work. He clapped and transmuted the stone floor to rise and rush at the Flame Alchemist, a giant hand bent on capturing, but very capable of destruction._

_Mustang evaded and a parody of a grin was fighting its way across his features. He snapped again and flames roared from his fingertips to engulf Ed._

_For a second, pleasure as blinding as the bright fire around him ate at him and threatened to consume him, but with a defiant yell, Ed brought his hands together and stone walls erupted from the ground around him, pushing the fire away for a moment with their rushing movement. _

_Ed seized the chance and ran toward Mustang, away from the inferno raging behind him. He clapped and transmuted his automail to a sharp point. He needed to disable the Flame Alchemist. _

_Ed charged._

_His attack missed. One second, Mustang was looking at him in challenge, and the next, the spot he had been standing on was empty. Ed's eyes darted around to catch a glimpse of the blue military coat and the bastard who wore it. _

_There were only the deserted, yawning corridors of the library._

_A mocking laugh filtered through his mind, echoing from the far reaches of the library and he glared into the darkness. Mustang was somewhere among those shelves._

_He growled and started sprinting away from the fire and into the maze._

_The corridors were empty. Ed had come to a stop in a small aisle that held only a table and a chair and he was cursing the sheer size of the library when suddenly, the sound of a snap chilled him to the core. He threw up his arms and steeled himself for the heat and pain that would follow._

_Heat did follow. He was vaguely aware of the fire's wind blowing through his hair and its brightness burning the back of his eyelids. But no pain followed. Ed frowned a second at not feeling anything until, without warning, he was overwhelmed with sheer feeling._

_Ed managed to lift his head, meeting Mustang's gleaming eyes at the entrance to the aisle, watching as a small smirk started tugging at those mocking lips._

_Sensation slammed into him. Burning, blazing heat rushed through his blood and initially he wasn't sure what he was feeling, because it was too much, too much, until he gasped in a shaky breath of air and a tortured moan of pleasure clawed its way from his throat._

_And as if by defining the sensation running through him he had truly awakened it, the fire inside him increased in intensity ten-fold, consuming him as the glare he had levelled at Mustang melted away into an open-mouthed mask of bliss in the unbearable heat flickering between them._

_Only Ed's mind kept screaming at him as his body surrendered. _

_Darkness rushed to claim him._

The world was no longer burning. Ed gasped in a breath of air, his breath coming in pants as the sudden loss of pleasure left him momentarily disoriented.

Mustang must have lost control of the flames.

"Edward? What's the matter?" Mustang's voice came from a different direction and it didn't sound mocking, but Ed's anger boiled over. After what the bastard had done...!

Ed whipped up his head.

Mustang was too close, too close. Ed could feel traces of flames reawakening and with a war cry, he launched himself over the table onto the ground of the aisle he was in and landed in a fighting stance a few steps behind Mustang.

oO0Oo

The inner office was silent as the outer office was alive with activity and Hawkeye's commanding voice.

Roy was feeling guilty. Oh yes, he would never admit to it, but that didn't change the fact that he was aware that he might have pushed Fullmetal a little too far. He seemed to do that too often lately.

Sighing aggravatedly, he pushed a hand through his hair.

Roy never meant to elicit real anger and true resentment when he teased Edward; all he wanted was that brief, bright flare of irritation that could bring a smirk to his own lips and without words told both Fullmetal and him that everything was as it should be.

Only that after the episode with the missions and his comments to Ed, his subordinate had reacted more strongly than ever and it had been cold fury instead of fleeting annoyance that had crystallised the air between them.

Roy wasn't sure if it was only his prodding at Edward's temper that had played a role in Ed's outbursts of bitterness the last two days, or if something else was the matter. As time wore on, he began to suspect the latter.

Ed felt... more distant and yet much more easily irritable than usual and his reaction to Roy's concerned questions as to his emotional state was... dismissive at best. What was weighing on his mind? What had made him change?

He passed an absent hand over the stack of missions at his side and wondered if he should apologise. Usually, apologies were not something he could wrap his pride around, but Fullmetal was a different case.

Staring at his hand and at the mission requests beneath, he began flipping through them again. Perhaps Fullmetal would be more agreeable if he gave him a mission that showed how much faith he had in him.

Roy might have given Edward the impression that he thought him less than capable when it came to missions involving field work, but nothing could be further from the truth. Out of his subordinates, it was Fullmetal who he trusted most to get an assignment done, despite the furious calls he received by local officials and the considerable collateral damage Edward left in his wake.

The passion he directed at everything he did and the personal involvement he developed in the course of a mission let Fullmetal achieve the greatest of things and get through the toughest of situations.

It silently impressed Roy, which, again, was something he would never tell anyone, least of all Ed himself. Ed's passion for life was simply so fascinating; Roy had seen and quietly observed the countless soldiers that had been put under the petite alchemist's spell by watching him fight with those graceful flips and measured jumps, with that underlying, boiling fervour of his passion.

Roy was honest with himself. Edward's passion had, on occasion, managed to pull him in, and had elicited strongly passionate responses from him. It happened when they fought, it had happened when they had faced off on Central Command's courtyard, and still continued to happen whenever Ed's ardour boiled over and ignited the air around him.

In those moments, Roy was a helpless spectator to his own actions and on those occasions always prayed that he would not do anything to get closer to that source of heated enthusiasm.

And because Ed's passion had always been there, even in the darkest of his days, it was so disturbing to see it gone, replaced by coldness and an empty existence.

Ed needed a purpose, and Roy was going to try his utmost to give him one.

He grabbed the entire stack on impulse and left the inner office, only stopping shortly to ask Breda where Fullmetal had gone.

When he was told, a small smile formed on his lips. The library. It figured.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what Ed would be researching. After all, there was no longer any goal he was aiming for and no research to be done.

Arriving at the library, he asked a passing librarian if they had seen Edward, but the young woman only shook her head and Roy was left to search the entire library for his subordinate.

He checked the obvious sections, such as the Advanced Theoretical Alchemy section and the Practical Transmutations section, but the first was empty and the other had two young men who looked as though they'd only just passed their State Alchemist examination.

After checking a few less obvious sections, he resigned himself to walking through the aisles and checking each for the blond.

He was about to give up and return to his office when he glimpsed a head of golden hair sprawled over a table in a narrow aisle. Frowning, he stepped closer and checked the binding of one of the books in the shelf to his left.

_Applications of Quantum Mechanics and Integrals in Theoretical Alchemy,_ it read.

He shuddered and averted his gaze. What was Fullmetal doing in the Mathematical Alchemy section? At least now the fact that Ed was slumped over his books and sleeping made sense now. No one could stay awake with reading material as dry as this.

Sighing, he walked closer to at least remove some of the uncomfortable-looking books from under Edward's arms, but his advance was abruptly halted when a sound erupted from Ed's mouth that chased shivers down his spine.

Ed _moaned_.

Roy stopped in his tracks like a deer caught in the headlights. His hearing sharpened to listen for anything else that might pass Ed's lips, but the only thing he could hear now was Edward's harsh breathing.

Roy didn't blush, but he was pretty close to it. What the hell was Fullmetal dreaming about?!

Suddenly, Ed's breathing changed and he made a small, startled sound that told Roy he had returned to wakefulness. Ed kept his head cast down, as though he were momentarily disoriented. Still, the panting breaths continued, but now Roy realised that they were edged with panic.

Concerned, Roy took a tentative step closer. "Edward? What's the matter?"

He hadn't expected Ed's head to whip up that fast. He also didn't expect the wild look in those golden eyes that screamed fear, anger and the vicious desperation of a cornered animal.

In a split second, Ed had vaulted over the table, flipped in the air and landed right behind him in a tense and alert fighting stance, the reason for which was beyond Roy.

Wary and burning eyes were watching each of his movements and Roy just stared.

Edward flowed into a defensive stance, eyes sparking with rage. "You bastard! Stop setting me on fire!!"

Before Roy had any time to process the preposterous accusation, least of all formulate a coherent defence, Ed clapped his hands with a vengeance, creating a rushing wave of stony ground that twisted into a sharp point and struck out toward Roy.

He felt his own eyes widen in horrified surprise and his instincts took over as, a split second before Ed's attack impaled him, he snapped his fingers, blowing up the incoming threat and singeing the furniture and shelves in the process. Books were smouldering at the edges and Ed was just about to start another attack when Roy rushed forward, gripping Edward's arms and keeping them apart.

"Fullmetal! Stop this right now!"

He was utterly bewildered, but had enough presence of mind to not let Ed's hands get too close to each other. Fullmetal wasn't himself right now.

Ed fought back as hard as he could, and Roy let his voice snap into the sharp, powerful mould of command, which made Fullmetal instinctively halt in his desperately flailing motions.

"Look at me, Major!"

Edward needed to calm down or someone was going to get hurt. Roy felt the reluctance in Ed as he slowly tilted up his head to glance past Roy, as if driven to obey against his will.

"No, look into my eyes."

Edward's wary gaze wandered to meet Roy's eyes, and Roy attempted to express with them a message that would not reach Fullmetal through his words. You're safe. You're fine. I'm not going to hurt you. Trust me.

Ed's eyes flickered, like candles burning near an open window, and they seemed to search him for exactly what he was giving.

Instinctively, Roy tightened his hands on Edward's arms and then, never letting the connection of their eyes break, slowly and warily let go.

Edward had calmed and looked as though he was about to say something, when an outraged voice behind them stopped Ed from speaking.

"_What_ do you think you're doing?"

They both whipped around guiltily, to see an irate librarian blocking the exit of the aisle, glaring at the rubble around them and the smouldering books that they had caused in their brief scuffle.

"We're just talking!", Ed tried.

The librarian's eyes seemed to darken and spark with protectiveness. "And which part of talking involves fighting and", here he looked at the transmuted floor and the singed edges of the books, "the usage of alchemy? That's forbidden in the library!!"

Roy cleared his throat, meaning to take control of the situation, because obviously, Ed was not going to handle it well.

"We are very sorry, but—"

The librarian fixed him with his glower, but then he suddenly seemed to recognise him. "The Flame Alchemist!"

Oh, Roy loved it when they were so awed by his presence; surely they'd have no trouble—

"_You_ are responsible for this! You used Fire Alchemy in a library! You are a menace to books!"

Roy was taken aback and wanted to say something along the lines of Ed also being involved, but the librarian wasn't done yet. The short man took one deep breath, as though invoking the power of his position and stabbed a finger at Roy's chest.

"_You_ are banned from this Library!"

"What about Ed?!" Roy asked indignantly and perhaps childishly.

The librarian glanced over to Ed, who looked disgustingly innocent.

"Edward Elric is a good boy. Aren't you?"

Edward nodded with an innocent, borderline simpering smile and the librarian turned back to Roy with a satisfied huff.

Roy saw Ed flash him a triumphal smile, which was amplified when the librarian pointed to Roy.

"You. Out."

But the tables were turned immediately. Roy couldn't suppress his own smirk when the librarian fixed his disapproving eyes on Ed.

"You. Clean up this mess."

oO0Oo

Ed was transmuting the last bits of rubble back into the stone floor, having already returned the books to their previous, unharmed state. Bless libraries and their lack of wind.

He was feeling extremely embarrassed. He had fucking _attacked_ Mustang after waking up from his dream. Mustang must think him a total nut case.

Which he damn well was! What was he doing, confusing those stupid dreams with reality? Sure, his dream had taken place in the very same library he had fallen asleep in, but something should have tipped him off that his dream was over.

Shit! And how long had he been asleep? Ed whipped out his silver pocket watch and sighed in annoyance as he saw the hands already pointing to a quarter to three. He was damn hungry. And he felt like swearing.

He let his tired feet carry him to the exit, thoughts shuffling toward the inexplicable pleasure in his dream and recoiling in mortification.

Stepping out into the glaring afternoon sunshine, Ed was startled by the presence of Mustang, who was leaning against one of the sturdy pillars with a pinched expression on his features. It seemed he had waited for him to come out.

Ed didn't bother stopping as he passed the man, having expecting it when Mustang fell into step beside him. He fleetingly wondered if the older man was angry about being banned from the library.

Before Mustang could say anything, Ed summoned his considerable will power and momentarily asked his pride to lay low. This whole incident had been his fault, and remembering the men and their plot against Mustang only helped increase his feeling of pitying guilt.

"I'm sorry." I'm sorry you were banned. I'm sorry I attacked you. I'm sorry I dreamed that way about you. I'm sorry you are in danger and I haven't been able to do anything yet.

Mustang, of course, only heard his apology and not the depths it reached to. Ed's apology was like an iceberg Mustang was viewing from a ship. To him, it was small and simple, albeit being larger than itself under the surface of the dark waters.

The sigh Mustang let out was only moderately aggravated and Ed thought he sounded more resigned than anything.

"I don't care about being banned, Edward. It's more the reason for your attack I am concerned about."

Damn. He'd have to come up with a lie. And quick.

He made sure to give his voice a casual, careless tinge. "I was having a nightmare, that's all."

Ed could feel Mustang's eyes on his face, but he didn't turn his head to meet them, because he didn't trust himself to hide all the secrets that were piling up behind his eyes.

"That's not all, Fullmetal. I saw you. You woke up, you saw me, registered that it was me, and attacked. It wasn't some monster born from your nightmares you wanted to kill, it was me you wanted to attack, wasn't it?"

Mustang's voice had grown quieter, and it sounded so very serious.

Ed's thoughts flailed for a moment in indecisive panic, before settling on denial. He scoffed.

"It was just coincidence."

"Does 'Stop setting me on fire, you bastard' sound familiar to you?"

Ed growled, defaulting into defensive anger. "Okay! So I dreamed about you, so what? You were a freaking bastard in this one, kept trying to set me on fire! Are you happy now?"

"'This one'? You had more?"

Damn. That. Fucking. Bastard. He was too damn perceptive and listened too closely to what Ed said.

His eyes felt like spitting fire and he glared daggers in Mustang's direction, when, gaze drawn past the man's face, he registered the tall figure of Roland walking toward the Library in the distance.

Reality slammed home and Ed swallowed convulsively, momentarily ripped from their conversation until Mustang reminded him of his presence.

"You dream about me, Fullmetal?" It was said with a leering edge of mockery.

"Just shut up." The anger Ed conjured in response was merely a pale replica of his usual passionate eruption of temper. The plot against the man next to him was too present in his mind and was a constant, sobering reminder of the Colonel's vulnerability.

He kept glancing past Mustang to where Roland was disappearing into the large building, his own embarrassment and anger taking second precedence over the priority of Mustang's safety.

It was a clash of the two realities they shared. The teasing, mocking reality that Mustang lived right now was colliding with the loyal, protective and serious reality that Ed had been so unexpectedly thrown into.

Ed debated whether he should follow Roland and find out what he could do to bring him and his accomplices down, or if he should return to the office with Mustang and pretend everything was all right.

No. Nothing was all right. He couldn't fucking pretend it was. Mustang was already regarding him with a frown at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

"I have to go", Ed finally said decisively, offering no explanation, his mind already formulating plans and strategies, gearing up into overdrive as he turned and sprinted back to the Library, leaving behind a baffled Mustang carrying a stack of missions that he had wanted to assign in a gesture of good will.

oO0Oo

I wasn't sure whether to end it here or include the next part, but then the chapter would have become very very long, so I decided to put it in the next chapter. FYI: I'm feeling romantic right now, because I just finished watching 'A Room With A View'... Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside!


End file.
